Poltergeist

In the run up to Halloween, here is another true and strange tale of the paranormal. I will post a new strange true story each day so don’t miss them. up in my house was on the whole, pretty good. We had great parents, almost every weekend we were gone camping somewhere, we had two proper holidays each year and I have no complaints at all. Just a bunch of heartfelt thanks to my parents and a growing sense of awe as to how they did all that with three small boys and not a lot of money. When I was eleven, we moved. It was a good move to be honest from a terraced three up, two down in west Hull to a rather nice semi-detached outside of Hull.

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It’s A Mystery

There is so much that we do not know and probably can never know. I have to be honest and say that that pisses me off! Among the first thoughts that I can recall thinking were things like who am I? What am I? and things have not changed. I still ask such questions on a daily basis and I am still frustrated in the knowledge that I may never know the answers. I know that I am something – I think, I feel – I am. But what am I? Will I die and simply cease to exist? What is at the end of space? What is it all for? Is there a reason for all this – the out there – what is it anyway? It’s pointless I

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Life is But A Dream

I recall singing that song when I was a small child and wondering what did it mean? – Life is just a dream? Row, row, row your boat, Gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, Life is but a dream. But where did this come from and who wrote it? A bit of research suggests that the earliest printing of it was in 1852 but who wrote it and why seems lost in the mists of time. If anyone knows, please let me know… I thought life a dream when I was a child or rather, I thought it a game that I controlled. It was a sort of virtual reality (as it would be called now) and I was sat in a box connected to a machine that

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To be a Fool

If I were God I think I would be devastated by the acts of humanity. But maybe thats the wrong way to think about things? Maybe I would look upon my creation with a parents’ love and understanding and perhaps I would see the good things rather than the bad? Perhaps I would chose to look upon the little acts of kindness, the attempts to understand another’s point of view and the innocence and wonderful imagination of children and marvel that such kindness, such beauty could exist at all. Perhaps I would puzzle over why people seem so deeply burdened when in fact they have life, choice and freedom of expression. Perhaps I would understand that sometimes it is difficult to see the light in the darkness if you have

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Ghost Stories

As many of you may already know, I had a strange and psychically troubled childhood some of which is documented in my book Inner Journeys. along the way, I bumped into a few ghosts too…. We lived in a typical semi-detached house on the outskirts of Hull. So far as I know, it was built in the 1920’s and had little history that might make you think it could be haunted. I recall my first impressions of the place though as a young boy. It was cold with no central heating, felt damp and gloomy and the bare floorboards and old wallpaper added a certain creepiness to the place. Of course, my Dad was an amazingly resourceful man and very soon, the entire place was redecorated and central heating added.

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The Art of Dreaming

For a while this morning I was researching Carlos Castenada. I had read his first four or five books as a teen and was thinking perhaps it was time to refresh my memory as regards their content. Pretty soon, I was reading about the man and how most likely, he was a fraud who rather than sitting in a small room with Don Juan was reading books about the subject at the University Library. I felt a rising sense of disappointment too as I read how he had retreated to a mansion with three female followers who gave up everything to live with and follow him and how he treated his family. All the classic symptoms of ego, sex and cult. Very disappointing. I read too a summary of the

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A Conversation with G. Michael Vasey by Nick Wale

A Conversation with G. MICHAEL VASEY Author of THE LAST OBSERVER Expat Brit located in the Czech Republic G. Michael Vasey is one of those unique writers you come across on a hot summer day. I have marvelled at this interview, and I’ve wondered what I can really say about it. I like this writer—a lot—and I can’t wait for you to like him, too! His book The Last Observer is a bit of everything, and that is the best way to describe this interview. It’s a bit of everything! Who do you have in mind when you write? Me. I write about my interests and things that I am passionate about. I trust that the end product is something of interest to others and that I have something unique

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Reality Really is Weird

I am reading a book about the nature of reality. It has an interesting way of working its theme as it has you conduct experiments. This last two days, I was doing one of the experiments where you simply look everywhere and expect to see something. In my instance, I decided on a pink car. Don’t ask me why. It just seemed like something fairly rare…. I actually finished reading the instructions on my Kindle riding a bus to pick up my car from service on Friday. I decided, pink car and looked up. As my eyes refocused on the view through the back window of the bus I noticed another bus. It was white but…. it had huge pink stripes on it. I thought to myself “OK, thats not

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Am I Alone?

I must confess that I often wonder if I am in fact alone. I mean, are any of YOU actually REAL? Much more likely, you are all figments of my furtive imagination. Think about it. The only thing that can really be real to us are our own experiences. Those experiences are second hand since if I touch you, it is in fact something in my brain that interprets what that touch should feel like and hell, what is ‘feeling’ anyway? Its something in my consciousness and in my brain and nothing to do with the atoms and molecules of my hand brushing against the atoms and molecules of you. Our entire experience of OUT THERE is ….. INSIDE OF US. You do not exist people I know it. I

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Dancers

Lift up your head and look around Take the time to see the world Bit by bit. Open your eyes and really see Observe and focus your attention Byte by byte.   Is this world an illusion? Created in your mind Are you simply a delusion? That God left behind   Now close your eyes and listen hard Hear the sounds around you Bit by bit. There is cacophony in the silence If you have the ears to hear Byte by byte.   Am I the center of creation? Constantly creating Or just an aberration That God left waiting   Bit by bit Revelations Byte by byte Animations No answers No questions Only dancers Dancing on a stage Image: Degas Figure Study 5

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